


Impulse Control

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Santa Clarita Diet (TV)
Genre: Baking, F/F, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-19 09:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: Janie helps Abby with the environmental club’s bake sale.





	Impulse Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notwisely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwisely/gifts).



“Thanks for showing up,” Abby said, nose scrunched as she leveled off a cup of sugar. “Eric’s sick and Sarah has a date. A _date_. As if locking lips with some flavor of the month’s somehow more important than the _environment_!”

“Um,” was all Janie could say. Because, like, wow. There was a lot going on there. Especially as Abby turned on the mixer and started creaming the butter and sugar. It was one of those standing mixers with the super-loud motors that drowned out everything else, so Abby couldn’t really expect a response.

Janie looked around instead. The Hammonds had a nice kitchen, though most of the flat surfaces were covered with baking supplies. Janie wondered why the rest of the environmental club wasn’t here, but if there was only one oven, maybe it made more sense for the other members to do their own thing.

Janie didn’t mind being alone with Abby, though. Even if Abby was a little intense.

Janie _liked_ intense.

“Okay! Sugar cookies first so the dough can chill, then we do brownies and the chocolate chip cookies,” Abby shouted over the whirring mixer. “I got my mom’s recipe cards, so if you can read ahead and grab the stuff, that’ll be great.”

Janie skimmed the recipe and got the vanilla. She had to stand super-close to Abby to add a teaspoon of vanilla (“are you sure that’s enough? Maybe one more”) and then another. A little splashed on her thumb and she licked it without thinking, then immediately went “blegh!”

“Yeah, I did that once,” Abby said, laughing. It wasn’t a mean-laugh, all high and fake, but deeper. Like it came from her chest, or her heart. It made her eyes light up, and all her freckles look like little chocolate kisses. “It smelled so good I tried to drink it. Blegh!”

“It has alcohol, though. Wouldn’t you get drunk if you did that?” Janie asked, even though that was like. _Barely_ relevant to the conversation. But she’d take any excuse to keep talking to Abby.

Abby rolled her eyes. “I guess, but you’d have to be _way_ desperate to try. Beer’s cheaper anyway.”

Janie cracked the eggs into the bowl, trying not to bump Abby as she did so. Or maybe trying _to_ bump Abby without being obvious about it. Janie’s heart rattled her ribs and tickled its way up her throat as her hip slid against Abby, and ohgod but now Abby turned the mixer to a lower setting so they could add the flour, and it was probably just Janie’s imagination but ohgod what if Abby could hear her heart racing—

Even with the mixer on a quiet mumble, puffs of white flour dusted out all over the counter and speckled their shirts.

“Sorry about the mess!”

“Ha!” Abby grabbed a scoop of flour from the bag, throwing it over her shoulder in a giant cloud. “Trust me, this kitchen’s seen _so_ much worse.”

“Oh my god. Your parents must be super chill.”

“They _should_ be. My mom’s _made_ the mess.” Abby grinned, sharp and nasty, and it was like—she wasn’t just Abby with the strawberry hair and the chocolate freckles and vanilla mouth, but she was also that fucking goddess from the lunchroom who was willing to walk right up to the biggest dickbag in school and smash his face with a tray.

Abby had _layers_ , like Neapolitan ice cream.

They rolled the dough into a giant ball and covered it in plastic wrap, which Abby put in the fridge as Janie checked out the next recipe.

“Brownies or chocolate chip cookies?”

“Let’s do brownies. What’s the oven temp?”

Janie read it out loud and Abby set the oven, then they melted the chocolate and butter together on the stove. Which was really nice, because it was so much quieter than the mixer and Janie still got to stand super-close.

Which would be great, if Janie could think of something to actually _say_.

“So. Uh. Six Minute Abbs. Is there a story to that?”

“Gimme six minutes and I can do _anything_ ,” Abby said, with such confidence that Janie’s heart skipped a beat. “But also like those workout routines, you know? Or ‘There’s Something About Mary?’” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care, honestly. Like. Who cares about a beach body when there’s more important shit? Like making sure there _are_ beaches, or clean water. People shouldn’t just get to do stupid, shitty things and get a pass for it, you know?”

“Is that why you’ve been missing school?” Janie asked.

She knew it was the wrong thing as soon as she said it, as soon as her breath left her mouth and her lungs collapsed like paper bags and Abby’s mouth twisted down and ohgod but Janie fucked this one up, so she tried for words but it all came out like scrambled eggs.

“I mean like. Your family is important, right? You don’t have to tell me, it’s cool, and _you’re_ cool, but I mean. You hit Christian with a _tray_. That’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me, and I would smash someone else’s face in! For you! If you wanted me to, I mean!”

Abby glared at her, mouth tight. Even angry she was gorgeous, blue eyes dark and stormy and Janie was going to spit up every cliche she could think of if Abby kept _looking_ at her like that but finally Abby relaxed, shoulders lowering, and Janie finally breathed out with a tiny squeak.

“Yeah, it’s family stuff. Like—my mom’s sick, and I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d just like to have one normal night, you know?”

“You think I’m normal?”

Abby laughed. “Well, okay. Maybe we’re _both_ not normal.”

“It’s not like I set _out_ to be weird,” Janie said, spraying a baking pan. “It’s more like—you know when you’re in the moment and you’re super-upset and like. It’s not even _about_ the other person any more, it’s about making a point? Christian was a dick, but I still texted him a bunch just because—I wanted to _mean_ something to him. Or prove that I meant _something_ to him, once. Even if I didn't want him. I don’t know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Abby took a break from stirring, turning off the heat and adding two cups of sugar. “It’s like—impulse control. There’s all that shitty science and parenting crap about how teenage brains aren’t fully developed or whatever, like we’re not people _now_ , we’re just ‘people in progress.’ But I’m still a person. Things still _matter_. And maybe my perspective will change later, but for now? I don’t just wanna wait around waiting for someone to clue me in on what to do.”

“Yeah! Like if someone tells you to slow down or take a breath—I mean, who can even _guarantee_ that we’re gonna have time later? Gotta seize the moment! Carpe diem!”

“Carpe _fucking_ diem, and I’m the fucking Queen of England!” Abby shouted, fist raised—

Janie kissed her.

Her lips mashed against Abby’s teeth and ohgod but Abby was straightening up and ohgod this is like the time that Janie ran across the freeway now because she _started_ and she can’t just stop halfway through, can’t just turn around because she already _did_ this and getting rejected by Abby would be a million times worse than getting run over by a truck—

But now Abby was kissing her back, dropping the spoon into the brownie pot with a clatter and cupping Janie’s face and ohgod it was so much nicer even though their noses bumped and Janie wriggled sideways a little and it was just lips against lips, gentle—

“Hey,” Abby breathed, smiling. Janie could feel the curve of her mouth against her cheek.

“Hey,” Janie whispered back. “How’s this for impulse control?”

“Fantastic.”


End file.
